


Drought

by bonoffee



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 12:57:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonoffee/pseuds/bonoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for dogdaysofsummer R/S challenge on LJ.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Drought

**Author's Note:**

> Written for dogdaysofsummer R/S challenge on LJ.

and the rustling, lazy breeze distils around them where the long grass echoes words of hope and joy. Ice cream-sticky kisses, heaped one on top of the other, and murmurs of uncertainty, reassurance, desire, wonder.

Remus feels his heart chatter, reminding him how close he is to doing something amazing. Sirius, beside him, atop him, nuzzles his neck, breath dry and parched, eyes hooded and scrubbed of anything but what lies in front of him. Remus wants to speak, but his words drip to a stuttering halt in his tight throat, and instead his skin prickles like it does sometimes before the rain falls.

There is no rain today. There hasn't been for weeks. But 

  
Sirius is stripping off by the low-slung water, revealing creamy-smooth skin that glistens in the searing light. Remus watches, sitting under the tree, as shirt, shoes, socks, jeans, underwear are dismissed and    
_Sirius_   
 emerges, fully-formed and beautiful, stretching to the wide open sky, closing his eyes. 

Remus thinks he has never seen anyone as elegant as Sirius, nor has he ever felt as close to him as he does in that instant. He can't decide why. Perhaps it has something to do with the exposed column of throat, usually hidden by studded collars or ties loosely draped (to make a statement, naturally). Perhaps it is the fact that now they can be naked in each other's presence for reasons other than sex. 

Or. 

Remus turns the page in his book out of habit. 

Or it could be because neither of them knows when this might end. The grass talks only of danger now, and

it makes Remus pause and dwell on the fact a river used to splash down the small rocks and make a proper noise. It barely trickles this summer.

Under the tree, grasping the straws of his book in a search for comfort, Remus fancies he can still see    
_him_   
. The rays rearrange themselves in front of his eyes, form a picture of something lost in the blaze of a different kind of fire. Flickering, dancing, laughing, kissing, ruffling,    
_being_   
.

The page in Remus' book is damp, and he wonders when it started raining.

The grass whispers of sorrows and wishes and futures melted away like rain   
_tear_   
drops into a barren, broken earth.


End file.
